


Os's Scars

by Astrellia



Category: RWBY
Genre: Adding to Cannon, Adds to Cannon, Adopt them Qrow, Adorable, Adorable Cinnamon Roll, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Decisions, CRWBY why, Cinnamon Roll, Cinnamon Roll Oscar, Confusion, Cute, Don't Hurt Cinnamon Rolls, Drama, Dreams, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Giving Oscar a Character, Good, Help, Hope it's good, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I promise I'm going somewhere, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, It gets better I swear, Must Read, My First Fanfic, No self-confidence, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Os is not Oz, Oscar Protection Squad, Oscar Protection Squad Where You At, Oscar deserves better, Oscar deserves character development, Oscar deserves love, Oscar needs a hug, OscarProtectionSquad, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pain, Plans For The Future, Platonic Relationships, Post-Volume 3 (RWBY), Protect the marshmallow, Pure, Sad, Saturday - Freeform, Self-Esteem Issues, Tags Are Hard, Tears, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, This Is STUPID, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Updates Saturdays, Uploads Saturdays, Uploads on Saturdays, Uploads once a week, Weekly Updates, What is a Hero?, Why Did I Write This?, Why are you still reading these tags?, Worth It, bad, follows cannon, hero - Freeform, i have a plan, might suck, must protect, oscarneedsahug, protect the cinnamon roll, save the world, this is long, too many tags, worth reading
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-09-14 18:54:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16918437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astrellia/pseuds/Astrellia
Summary: "It's about a man with two souls, each fighting for control over his body." Oscar struggles to find who he is while fighting off becoming someone else and losing his identity.





	1. Prologue

"It's _about a man with two souls, each fighting for control over his body."_

* * *

Ever since I was a little kid, I had always wanted to be something more than just a farmer. I always knew that he was going to do more than that. However, I never really wanted to be a huntsman, much less the most experienced huntsman on the entire planet. I, most of all, dreamed of a happy life surrounded by love and doing the things I love. What that exactly was, I had no idea yet. I had always been a dreamer, even if they were only just that - dreams.

Most of the time, I couldn't remember the dreams he had at night. Sometimes he would be the hero in an epic fairy tale, saving the damsel and winning the hearts of men and women alike. A dream I remember in the morning is few and far between, let alone his dreams of being a hero in my own story. Granted, they always were imaginative and fun, but the fact simply was that they were not my cup of tea. The adventures would be always be great in my dreams, but I'd either wake up before being able to see the end of the dream or I wouldn't know what to do after I had saved the world. To be fair, what exactly are you supposed to do after you've found your true love and happily ever after? And do heroes do good things in order to get the fame and acclaim synonymous with being a hero, or is it the good works of a hero that make them heroes in the first place? I didn't know the answers to these questions, but I also knew that he didn't want to be a hunter because of it. Not everyone has to be a hunter or a huntress. In my opinion, you don't need to be the hero to be a hero. Sometimes the most heroic thing to do is to step back and let others who are better suited for leading be the big, important heroes. Plus, if I can be the author of his story, why would I need or want to be the hero too? Another reason I am not particularly fond of adventure and fantastic dreams was the fact that they more often than not involved a war of some kind.

I can't stand watching people get hurt in general. I always wince or look away even whenever I just cut his finger doing his chores for the day or something stupid like that. It's kind of pathetic, actually. Whenever I would see my short, little mother struggling to lift even one of the bales of hay or whenever she was upset about anything, I would rush to her side. Seeing her in pain or in need, just makes me feel like I  _need to help_. In fact, I didn't help, I probably would feel pretty guilty. More often than not, I would end up being so focused on helping my mom that I would end up dropping the pitchfork he had previously been using clumsily on his foot, or even accidentally stepping in a pale of water and soaking both my shoes and my socks in the process. I'm a pretty clumsy person, and it's just bound to happen. When I get focused, I get a really bad case of tunnel vision, and I swear that I get even clumsier somehow. Blushing shyly, I would then have to clean up whatever mess I had just made. It happens so often, I've come to expect the unexpected now. Still, seeing my clumsy but loving attempt to help her would always make my mom smile or laugh despite herself. Part of not wanting to see anyone hurt meant that I try my very best everyday to keep that from happening by cheering up and helping anyone who needed it. That's not saying much, though since the farm seemed like it was an eternity away from an actually big city or somewhere like Atlas or Beacon Academy. For someone who never wanted to be a hero in the spotlight, a lot of people around me said that I sure lit up the world and made the lives of the few people around me so much better.

Every morning, I usually was up before dawn so that I could watch the picturesque view of the sunrise as it enveloped everything in sight before getting ready to do my chores. I would wake up and quickly -but carefully- run out of his room, down the ladder, and shove the door of the barn aside with enthusiasm. Some days I would try to get as many of them done as possible before my mom called me in for my regular breakfast: scrambled eggs, a blueberry muffin, strawberries, two thick slices of ham, and a glass of milk. What can I say, another thing that I really like is order. I always have the same breakfast, always do my chores everyday, and then I always do my homeschooling with my mother. It might be boring to some people, but it's what I love. Other days when there was a particularly stunning sunrise, I would take my milk outside and just take in the gorgeous scenery around me for a while. Once all of the pinks, golds, and oranges in the sky faded away or I was done gazing at the memorizing and transfixing sunrise, I would eat the rest of breakfast. Whichever order it was or whichever day, I have always loved watching the sunrise, but I always had to get back to his reality and start working after the blue sky replaced it.

That particular day was different, however. On that particular day, the birds were chirping melodically, and the warmth and beauty of the sunrise had already come and gone, but I was still fast asleep. The world came alive just beyond my window sill, and yet my breathing was still steady and slow and I was still curled up cozily in my bed. A smile was on my serenely closed face, and it was illuminated by the light shining in from my window. Not only did I miss the sunrise, which I rarely did but I was having a dream about being a hero. Only, it wasn't myself being the was someone else saving the princess, saving the town, getting into fights with villains, and one by one defeating them. Since I didn't have to fight myself, I was able to at least enjoy the dream a little more. It was almost as if I was watching a movie or reading about what he was seeing in his book, rather than it being simply a dream. The whole world in his dreams was so vivid and crisp, and I had never had a dream quite like it before in my entire life. Every color seemed to be in technicolor and everything seemed as if it was almost real.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized that it was not only someone I had never met before being the hero in my dream, but I had never been to this place before, either. The dream had started off so weirdly, and I couldn't make out exactly where he was or what was happening. I tried to, but the perfectly clear vision I had moments ago seemed to blur and fade right before my eyes. When I could finally recognize where I was in my dream, I could only do so because I had seen pictures of it in my books. I hadn't seen the pictures in a while, but I remembered that my mother had shown me it back when she thought I might want to be a huntsman. What looked like Beacon Academy loomed above me and kids training to be hunters and huntresses gave good mornings to me as I passed. The strange hero of the dream walked through the grounds of the ginormous school until he came to the main entrance of the building. At the door, he held the door for a few kids behind him before walking inside himself.

* * *

Mrs. Pine looked out the window of the simple farm house and scanned the area for her son. Since he always watched the sunrise, he would usually already be either over to the farmhouse or doing his chores. When she couldn't find him, she pouted a little and figured that he was still asleep. It had been a long while since he had last slept in. She couldn't be sure if he was sick or just sleeping in, but it was probably best to wake him up anyway. After all, there was work to be done and lesson for him to learn after he was done with his chores. She sighed and glanced back at the ingredients she had just gotten out to start making breakfast with. She decided that breakfast could wait and walked out of the room and out of the farm house.

She paused when she got outside, smiled and took in the beautiful morning for a second before continuing to Oscar's little barn. Oscar used to live in the farm house with his mom and dad when he was younger, but for his thirteenth birthday the parents gave him the little barn that they hadn't used in a while. It wasn't much, but in the mom's opinion, a boy needs his own space. Still, she was a bit worried and missed having him around in the house for the first few months. She still felt that way sometimes, even if Oscar was already fourteen now.

Mrs. Pine walked up to the barn door and it took a little effort to shove the old door to the side and get in, but she did it. While passing the hay and the old sink that needed to be replaced or fixed in order to get to the ladder, Mrs. Pine had a wonderful idea and came up with a plan. It had been a long time since she had to last wake up her son, so she didn't really have the opportunity to do that anymore. She used to do what she was thinking of when Oscar was younger, since he overslept a lot when he was a small child. The mom smiled to herself and tried to be as quiet as she possibly could. If she was too loud, Oscar would wake up and her little scheme would be ruined. She carefully and quietly made her way up the ladder. The old wood creaked anyway, but at least she tried.

When Mrs. Pine made it up, she paused at the doorway. She couldn't help but smile when she saw her adorable little boy. He was curled up in the bed, nestled in his patched up blanket, and Mrs. Pine could hear his calm, steady breathing. His beautiful dark hair was a mess from shifting around in his sleep during the night, but the soft light from the window lit up his face and hair and managed to make even his messy hair look nice. As she gazed at Oscar, the boy rolled a bit and softly snored a little. The mother couldn't understand how big he had gotten. He was her little baby boy, after all. Now, he was old enough to have his own room and do work around the farm, not just cleaning up around the house or helping his mother with the cooking. It seemed like yesterday to her when they had baked a chocolate cake for his fifth birthday, or when she would watch Oscar and his father read bedtime stories together. It was almost as if every time Mrs. Pine turned around Oscar had grown another inch. He was shortish for his age, but then again Oscar's father was too before he had a growth spurt. It didn't seem that long ago since Oscar was even learning his first words or taking his first steps. It wasn't an eternity ago when she would tickle him to get him to wake up laughing back in the farm house.

A menacing smile became plastered on the woman's freckled face as she remembered what she was going to do. She positioned herself for the perfect attack. Unfortunately for Oscar, this wasn't Mrs. Pine's first rodeo. She was his mother after all, and she knew all of his most ticklish spots: his toes, underneath his chin, and especially underneath his armpits. Clearly, she had the advantage in the situation. The mother got ready to pounce on her prey and specifically targeted her victim where he was weak. Whether it was fair or not, she didn't care, and she attacked anyway.

* * *

I awoke immediately in pain. It was agonizing. For the first few seconds of being awake I simply panicked, not realizing what was going on. I wasn't sure who or what it was that caused my pain, and it scared me so, so much. I saw my mother standing over me, and started laughing. I couldn't understand exactly why I had started laughing so hard. When I felt an uncontrollable urge to laugh and squirm away from her, I realized what was going on. Still, I couldn't do anything to stop either the onslaught of never-ending tickles or his his hysterical laughter. That doesn't mean I didn't try though. I waved my arms around and tried to squirm away from her grasp, but it was no use.

When she saw that her sweet little Oscar was clearly awake, one would think that Mrs. Pine would have stopped tickling her son. However, one clearly does not know Mrs. Pine very well. Instead of letting me go, she did the opposite. When I woke up, she just tickled me even more. I wished she would stop. She was laughing and having fun though, and I couldn't stop her anyway really.

I thrashed around the bed unable to stop my hysterical laughter, Mom's laughter, or the attack. At this point, I had started crying too, even though it had only been a minute or two since the attack started. I'm not sure if I've said this before, but I'm not the most brave or manly teenage boy in the world. When I was asleep, I was already tangled in the blanket, and all of the moving around didn't help much either. In fact, I only got somehow even more tangled in the homemade blanket. My eyes shut, and my sides hurt from the attack and from laughing so hard. The pain, even though it was not truly real pain, was excruciating. At least, I thought it was. As I rolled around the bed, both me and my mother didn't notice how close I was to the edge of the bed. With a loud thud, I fell off the bed and found myself on the floor instead. In the fall, I had taken the blanket with me, and my pillow had been kicked across the room some time ago.  _Just wonderful_. I struggled to get out of the blankets for a bit, but eventually untangled myself from it's grasp.

Thankfully, I didn't bump my head or anything when I fell, though I was still recovering from the early morning tickle attack. I blinked. Whatever I expected to happen that morning, wasn't that.

"Mornin', Sunshine!" Mom laughed before smiling and offering me her hand quickly.

Instead of taking her hand immediately, I winced, still suspecting she might tickle me even more. However, when I saw a worried expression on my mother's face at this, I figured she was done and took her hand. I figured that would calm her nerves, but she only seemed to get more worried.

"H-how much does it hurt on a scale from one to ten?!" she started, completely misjudging the situation and jumping to conclusions. She had a tendency to do that a lot. After all, she is my mother, and wincing is never a good sign in general. In retrospect, I probably should have been more careful about not worrying her. She always was the kind of person would make jokes and laugh, but the second anyone got hurt she would be overly worried. She, like me, couldn't stand to see anyone hurt. I guess it's true that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. "Should I call the doctor? Did you hit your head? Hold up a finger for yes, two fo..." she trailed off when she looked at my face.

I sighed and was shaking his head, smiling. "I'm fine, Mom,"I laughed. "Just waking up."

Mom let a sigh of relief escape her as she helped me up from the floor. When I was standing up, I was still tangled in the blanket she had sewn for me a few years ago when I outgrew my old one. She helped me get out of it before pulling me into an embrace even warmer than the blanket. I was a little caught offgaurd, but it was nice. As we hugged, we both could feel how much they cared about each other. She smiled and ran her fingers through my black bedhead of hair. In her arms, I returned the hug and smiled as I closed my eyes gently.

"I was worried."

"I know."

"I love you."

"I know," I smiled.

I knew that his morning had started off in a way he didn't expect, but what I didn't know was that the morning was the last before I lost my freedom. I didn't know that my entire life would be so vastly different in just one day, and I didn't expect to be taken away from my beloved mother so soon. I didn't know that this would be the last day I would ever have my thoughts to myself, or be my own person. Well, maybe that's not quite true either.


	2. Chapter 1: Oscar Pine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oscar has a nightmare, but gets up and does his chores.

**THIS WILL BE IN FIRST PERSON ONCE I AM ABLE TO FINISH IT. IF YOU PREFER THE ORIGINAL 3RD PERSON, PLEASE MESSAGE ME.**

* * *

_"But perhaps victory is in the simpler things that you've long forgotten. Things that require a smaller, more honest soul."_

* * *

Muffled screams of agony and pain reached Oscar's ears. At first, he wasn't exactly sure where it was coming from, or who was in pain either. All he knew was that someone was in pain, and it sounded like a girl. Normally, he would have winced and ran to figure out whoever was in pain, but Oscar couldn't move at all. The screams sounded so desperate, as if whoever was in pain was being tortured or something. However, for as desperate and heartbreaking as the shrieks where, they were almost no louder than a person normally would speak. That didn't mean much, though, since wherever he was it was almost silent anyway. In fact, it was dead silent, aside from the far away sounds of an all out war going on far, far above his head. The poor boy's heart skipped a beat, and he wanted to do something - _anything-_  to stop whoever was currently screaming's pain.

This wasn't possible at all, since Oscar seemed to be frozen and unable to move. Well, that's not entirely true. It's true that Oscar was moving, however he was not moving of his own accord at all. It was as if he was possessed or watching a first-person movie. It was almost as if everything he was seeing and hearing had been programmed; even as if all of what was happening had already happened, been recorded with a fancy and expensive camera, then played back to him. As Oscar came to his other senses, he realized that he was yet again somewhere he had never been before. As much as Oscar wanted to find the source of the screaming, it seemed like he was being forced to look away. Instead of rushing to the girl's aid, he unwillingly gazed sadly up above where the scream came from, as if all he currently wanted to do was look away. When he was shifting, out of the corner of his eye, Oscar could tell that whatever was in front of him was some sort of dark gray machine. He could only tell this because there was a clear capsule that was barely in his field of vision that had some kind of glowing red thing in it. Well, that, and there was a big light blue hologram keyboard thing that seemed to be operating the machine.

Oscar felt the uncomfortable tickling sensation of chills run through his entire body. He wished he could be anywhere else, and wanted to curl up in a ball and go to sleep. However, that was clear to be not even a possibility. He couldn't even lift a finger to help a person in need, yet alone leave or go to sleep at all.

Another less-desperate, but worried scream rang out, but this one was much clearer and sounded more like a young man. "Pyrrha!"

Still, Oscar was forced to look away, and he avoided looking at either the boy or the girl. There were glowing tubes on the back of the wall next to the machine. They must have been powering it. The farmhand wanted to say or do anything in order to help, but he couldn't. He could hear the click of armor as someone, probably the boy who screamed, moved closer to Oscar and the machine. Then the boy's lips moved, but it wasn't his voice that came out. Instead of his regular voice, this voice was deeper and sadder. It's a very peculiar feeling to want to speak so badly, but someone else's voice comes out when you finally do.

"I'm... so sorry," the weird voice said.

A few seconds after Oscar had finished speaking, the boy could hear something flying through the air as if it was shot like an arrow. Then, there was a crash as whatever was shot collided with glass and something else. When either of the screams rang out, Oscar hadn't been able to look at all. However, he turned to the sound of glass shattering, and was unprepared for what he saw. For the first time since he heard the first scream, Oscar desperately wanted to look away. Inside the capsule was a glowing, pretty young lady with light brown skin and beautiful chocolate eyes and hair. The boy wanted to look away because of two things really: the girl was only wearing white underwear, and the thing that was flying was an arrow that pierced the girl's heart. Mr. Pine heard a soft, barely audible gasp before everything eerily became dead silent again. The girl struggled to keep her eyes open for a few seconds. Even though she must have been in an enormous amount of pain, she couldn't even gasp again. Her eyes fluttered to a close, the glowing light around her flickered, and she didn't move again.

Now, Oscar wanted to scream. Anger boiled up inside of him, very quickly. No one tried to save her. No matter what that young girl had done, she didn't deserve to die. She seemed to be just barely an adult, maybe not even old enough to drink. The farmhand couldn't tell. No matter her age, no matter what she had done, no matter what anyone else had done;  _she didn't deserve to die_. Still, Oscar was forced to keep quiet. He couldn't scream, couldn't cry, couldn't run away, and he couldn't even know who just passed away. He couldn't know if she had a family that would grieve over her. He couldn't know if she was a hero, or a villain, or even an innocent bystander.

Before Oscar could have the time to deal with what he just witnessed, he turned around to see a woman holding a bow. By most definitions, the woman would have been drop-dead gorgeous. She had jet black hair that fell in a little wave around her face and shoulders, which contrasted her bright golden eyes wonderfully. However, the menacing small smile that was on her face scared Oscar even more. She was wearing a scandalously short red dress with black and gold accents, a black and gold ankle bracelet, and dark gray high heels. Oscar didn't think she was remotely beautiful after what she'd done. She had just killed that girl, plain and simple. She was a murderer, and all he felt towards her was a horrible anger like he has never felt before in his entire life.

When Oscar turned around, he could not only see the murderer, but a blonde-haired boy as well to his left. The boy was wearing armor that covered his chest and arms. He was also carrying an old hand-me-down-looking sword and shield as well. He would have looked just like a knight in shining armor if he wasn't wearing a dark hoodie under the armor, blue jeans, and sneakers. He didn't have the big and strong build that one would expect a knight to have either. Whoever the boy was, he didn't seem to belong in such a grim situation. Then again, nobody did, really. The boy didn't seem as mad as Oscar was, but that could be because he was probably in a state of shock. Still, he held out his sword and shield, as if he could possibly do something to help.

Oscar turned to the blue holographic keyboard. He couldn't understand what exactly it did, much less how to control it. To the side of him, Oscar could hear a muffled pounding on the chamber's glass. If the girl who was in the first chamber was murdered, whoever was pounding on the glass door in the second chamber probably was a target as well. Oscar knew that he had to get her out as fast as possible, but he couldn't move and he wouldn't even understand how to work the controls even if he could. Still, Oscar struggled and tried his best to even move his finger without being forced to. Sadly, he couldn't no matter how hard he tried, and his efforts were futile.

 _Someone is still in there!_  Oscar thought, alarmed,  _Why can't I just open the door?! I just have to figure out how to open the door..._

Before Oscar could manage to even twitch his finger, he was forced to turn around again. He turned just in time to see the young man getting ready to charge at the murderer. The murderer somehow had started magically glowing and hovering over the ground. Fiery flames danced around her body and her eyes, but her creepily confident expression didn't change or even waver. It was almost as if she knew this was going to happen -wanted it to, even. The boy was clearly scared and intimidated by this, but still, the young man ran at her, holding up his shield and sword as he did so. It was abundantly clear that the young man was running into a battle he was guaranteed to lose, maybe even die in. Yet again, Oscar was forced to move. Oscar jerked his hand out, as if the boy had eyes on the back of his head and could see him.

Oscar wished he could do something to help the kid. He probably wasn't that much older than Oscar, either. He could die at the hands of that murderer too, and the farmhand couldn't even lift a finger. In fact, for all the things that Oscar wanted to do, he was forced to pretty much do the opposite. Then again, he probably wouldn't be able to do much of anything if he wasn't forced to. He's never been a true combat situation before, and he's never had any proper training. He wasn't a student at Beacon or any of the other academies for huntsmen or huntresses. The closest to an emergency situation Oscar had been in was either one of the few times he had needed to fight off a small grimm, or one of the many times his mother had almost set something on fire while baking. Heck, he was just some kid who grew up on a farm. For all he knew, he in all honesty might have just screamed and cried like a child. He wasn't sure exactly what he would do when he thought about it, no matter how upset he was at that moment. Once Oscar realized this, he was able to empathize with the boy so much more. Both were just boys, but the young man was able to act on his emotions, no matter how distraught he was.

"Stay back!" the weird voice came out of boy's mouth again.

Instead of retreating or listening to the voice, the young man pressed on and through his fear. When he got about where he wanted to be, he held up his shield and his old sword and planted his feet in place. Terrified though he was, he held his ground. Even though he knew that his efforts would most likely be futile in the end, he still tried his best. That was truly something Oscar could respect at the very least. Still, regardless of his respect for the young man, he was still doomed to fail. That he did as the murderer threw up all the way back, almost to Oscar's feet with an explosion of fire and a simple swish and flick of her hand. He lay there for a little bit, winded. Then again, anyone would be after being thrown so far.

Then, the muffled girl's voice rang out quietly again,"Jaune!"

That must have been the boy's name. Since the girl both knew and was worried for Jaune, they must at least know each other. If that was the case, then  _Pyrrha_  must have been the girl's name, since the young man had called it out after she screamed in pain earlier. It was nice to at least know both of the other young adults' names, however it still weighed on his heart that he had absolutely no knowledge of the life that was lost right before his very eyes.

Pyrrha continued to pound on the door until she eventually managed to break the entirety of the door, pushing it out and into the air. It might have hit the murderer since she was still hovering several feet in midair, but she casually just flicked a few fingers, causing the door to fly and land somewhere to the side. The flames around the murderer had formed flickering circles around her that grew brighter and brighter, dancing around and illuminating the woman's body. The flames grew bigger and stronger as the woman slowly floated down and landed on the ground with a soft clink of her heels.

When Pyrrha saw that she had an opportunity to attack the murder and make her pay for what she'd done, Oscar could hear her run up behind him, getting ready to attack. He restrained her without even setting a finger on her body. The farm boy simply held out his arm to stop her from running into certain doom. In her panic, Pyrrha had misjudged how close his arm was, and he felt her shield collide with the back of his arm.

It was at that moment that Oscar saw Pyrhra for the first time. She, like all of the other people besides the murderer, seemed to be only a few years older than he was at most. A bronzish gold colored crown accented her strikingly red hair that was in a pony tail. She had emerald green eyes that somehow made her look serious and comforting at the same time. In fact, her whole demeanor, even in those horrible conditions seemed to give an air of strength, and light, and warmth. Clearly she was scared and had a worried expression on her face, but she made the boy feel like maybe things would be okay. Maybe it was the armor. Unlike Jaune who just had chest armor, she had boots that were completely made up of metal and went practically all the way up her legs as well. She also had metal armor to protect her neck, armor on her forearms, a matching shield, and an odd-looking sword as well. In her almost full armor, she looked as if she knew what she was doing, even though she clearly was scared and worried.

"Take Jaune, and get out of here!" the odd voice commanded,"Find Glinda! Ironwood! Qrow! Bring them here right away!" Oscar turned to look back at the woman with flames dancing around her. "The tower cannot fall."

"But I can help," Pyrrha responded meekly.

"You'd only get in the way."

Pyrrha looked sadly back at Oscar as she seemed to think for a few moments. When she was done, she hurried over to where Jaune was. Jaune was still getting up since all of these events had transpired so quickly, so Pyrrha helped him up from the ground. Together, they made their way past the murderer and down the hall. The horrible woman didn't even bother to attack them or follow them as they left, to Oscar's relief. It was almost as if she had no desire to hurt them, or maybe it was more that she didn't feel like wasting time or energy on them. There weren't any lights anymore besides the flickering light of the fire, and Oscar watched the teens until they were swallowed up by the believed Pyrrha. Maybe she really could do something to help the situation, but fighting the murderer probably wasn't the way to do that. The voice was right, she would only die in agony, either by bow or by being burned alive.  _You don't need to be the hero to be a hero_ , after all. The best way she could help was to run and get more help at that very moment. They needed that more than anything, and doing anything else would probably do more harm than good.

Flames stopped circling around the killer who's hair was equally black as her heart was. When they stopped, they quickly faded away. Before Oscar knew it, they had disappeared completely. The boy could feel his heart racing. This was it. No one else was there to help him; he was going to die. Plain and simple. If he didn't, it would be nothing short of a miracle considering he hadn't even unlocked his semblance yet. There was no way that Oscar, the young farmhand could ever in a million years beat a cold-hearted killer with magic and fire powers. It simply was inevitable. Death always is inevitable, but Oscar had hoped that death would come to him in his old age instead of when he was barely fourteen. He had hoped that he would die in the arms of loved ones, maybe even watching the gorgeous the sunset he loved so very much.

"This whole time, right beneath our feet." The killer finally spoke. Her voice was cold with distrust, and she had an angered expression as she did so,"She was right about you.."

Oscar never wanted to fight anyone, and this woman was no exception. Despite his wishes, however, Oscar was forced to grab what looked like a white and gold cane that must have been put through one of his belt buckles. He flipped it around and poised for an attack.

"...such arrogance," the murderer finished.

The two of them stayed where they were for a moment. However, it wasn't long before Oscar was forced to start running toward the woman.  _This is truly how he was going to die._  The boy didn't have time to think about everything he had wanted to accomplish, or people who cared about him like his mother, or even to think about dying and come to terms with it. Before he had realized what was going on, Oscar had sped up inhumanly fast and attacked the woman with his cane repeatedly. With every hit, a green light flashed, illuminating the darkened room for a second or two. It was almost like  _magic._

When the murderer recovered from the blows, she got up and started hovering over the ground once again. This time, it seemed as if the flames had almost engulfed her, rather than circling around her. With a blazing explosion of the horrible light, she grew brighter and more powerful than ever before. Oscar unwillingly became locked in combat with the evil woman. Flames fought against the green light of his new found magic, and they lit up the corridors together in a clash of brilliant light against the darkness. The farmhand's heart was pounding so hard that he thought he might faint, possibly even die from fear. With every step he was forced to make, Oscar's vision started swaying and darkness seeped into his vision. The world had almost become darkness, but then another green or fiery flame would brighten it again for a split second or more. It even got to the point where the boy couldn't even see the murderer's face anymore, much less actually do something to her. Suddenly, Oscar wasn't even awake enough to even be angry with her anymore. Even Oscar's thoughts were discombobulated and messed up. Oscar had somehow ended up on the ground for a little while, and he saw something in his last few seconds of consciousness.

In the reflection of the green light that was surrounding him, Oscar could see himself. Only, it wasn't  _himself._  The man that stared past the reflection somehow looked vaguely familiar, as if the boy had maybe seen him in a picture one time. The man's white-gray hair was highlighted with the green light, and his dark spectacles were about to fall off his nose in the struggle. Then, as quickly as he had seen the reflection, Oscar couldn't see it anymore. The darkness crept up all around and consumed him.

* * *

Oscar woke up still panicking and panting. For a second, he thought he was back wherever he just was, about to die still. It took the boy a few moments to steady his breathing and calm down. Then, he looked at the beautiful golden sunrise outside and realized that it was nothing more than a dream. He sighed in relief. All of the anger, fear, and sadness wasn't real. He had no reason to feel scared anymore, but it didn't seem anything like a dream at all. In fact it felt like something that had actually happened, a memory even. Thank goodness it wasn't, because Oscar had no idea what he would do if it was real. For some reason, he found he still remembered everything he had seen.

Since the gold and pinks were still streaked across the sky, Oscar thought he might as well get up and go see it like usual. The sunrise always managed to cheer him up for some reason, silly as it was. Watching the sunrise every morning wasn't exactly the manliest thing he has ever done, but he really didn't care. It was beautiful, and Oscar loved it. If anyone had told him that watching the sunrise wasn't the kind of thing a fourteen-year-old boy should be doing, he probably would just ignore them.

So, Oscar pushed himself out of bed and made his way through the room, through the door, and to the ladder. He carefully went down the steps of the ladder, but he jumped the last few in his sleepy excitement. The old wood against his feet creaked as he walked, but he really didn't care. By now he had become so accustomed to the creaking that he could pretty much ignore it by now. When Oscar got to the door, he pushed it open with a lot of his strength so he could see as much of the sunrise as he could.

That day's sunrise was especially beautiful, however the golden light was so bright that it made it almost impossible for the farmhand to see at first. The boy stepped out of his barn and used his hand to shield his eyes. The brilliant light brought a small smile to his face, and his black hair waved a little in the wind as he watched the sunrise. It rarely ever failed to manage to bring a smile to the boy's face. After such a dark and horrible nightmare, the sunrise helped calm Oscar down a bit more. It was gorgeous, comforting even.

Oscar thought it was best to focus on his chores, rather than letting his mind eventually drift back and dwell on the memory of his terrifying nightmare. So, he grabbed the bucket that was just by the door and brought it over to the hand water pump a few feet from the barn. He set the bucket on the ground and began to put force on the handle of the pump. Cold water started splashing into the old bucket.

To the boy's dismay, his mind did begin to wander a little. In dreams you could only see people you've seen before, but Oscar has never seen either the girl who died before in his dream or the man who's reflection flashed for only a few seconds. He hadn't seen the other people either. Growing up on a farm, he hadn't seen a huge amount of people in his entire life. Every time someone had visited the farm, Oscar tried to get to know them during their visit because he might not have a chance to meet someone new in a while. And most of his books didn't even have pictures in them. When they did, they were always drawn and not actual photos. Mrs. Pine had never really gotten a television or computer, either since she was the kind of person who thought they would distract her and her son. It didn't really make sense for Oscar to see someone he didn't know in his dreams, since they were after all just his brain messing with information in his sleep. Oscar read about dreams in one of his books, and even they pointed out that it was impossible to dream about people he'd never seen before.  _Then, who were those people?_

Oscar suddenly became aware that the water was flowing over the top of the old bucket. He stopped pumping the water and the last of the water splashed over the edge of the bucket. Oscar looked at it for a moment before sighing.

Carefully so that the least amount of water fell out of the bucket, he picked it up and made his way to the old, green compost tumbler. After he poured the water in, he closed the door. The old rusty handle wouldn't budge very easily, and there was a lot of stuff in the tumbler, so it took most of the boy's strength to make a full circle. He would grunt a little bit when gravity was against him, then he would take a second to get ready for the next full circle. When he figured he had turned it enough, Oscar took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second.

By the time he had gotten to his other chores, the sky was already mostly blue, and he had been not really paying attention to what he was doing anymore. He looked up at the sky, but he couldn't get his nightmare out of his mind. Flashes of green, orange, and red danced before his eyes instead of the now almost blue sky before him. Memories of screams echoed through Oscar's head, and he saw Pyrrha, Jaune, and the murdered victim whenever he blinked or closed his eyes. Oscar didn't want to remember everything, after all he didn't need to. It was just a nightmare, and there was no point stressing out over it. Oscar, like everyone, had nightmares sometimes. That's just a fact of life. Still, every time something from his dream came back to the boy, he felt as if something was  _off._

He shook his head as if that would help his thoughts go away. At least he had breakfast to look forward to. Speaking of, Oscar figured his mom was just about finished making breakfast. He was done with his morning chores, anyway. He decided that he would go wash up and get ready before heading to the farm house to get food. He picked up the pitchfork he had been using and walked back towards his small little barn. He had left the door open, so it was easy to just walk in. After he leaned the pitchfork against some hay, he went over to the sink to wash his hands.

Oscar stopped. He wasn't sure exactly what compelled him to do it, but he looked at the mirror before even taking off his gloves. Maybe it was the flashes of the man in his dream. For a second, he thought he saw the man in the reflection of the mirror above the sink as well. It was too fast to be able to recognize the man's features, but his gray, almost white hair and weird spectacles would stand out practically anywhere. Just as quickly as it as come, the image was gone from the mirror and Oscar couldn't see the man anymore. There's no way he could disappear though, since he hadn't been able to do that in the farm boy's dream. How could Oscar even think that a person from a dream even really existed in the first place? The idea in itself was absurd. There was no way that the man in Oscar's dream was a real person.

Still, Oscar found himself drawn to the mirror. When he saw another image of the man for a second, the boy became even more confused. Anyone would be. It wasn't often that people saw people that weren't there; only crazy people did that.  _Maybe Oscar was going crazy._ Or maybe he really had hit his head yesterday morning when he fell off the bed and gotten serious brain damage or something. In his mind, that could be a possibility too. He leaned forward, closer to the mirror before scratching his head in confusion.

 _Am I going insane? Is my mom going to have to lock me up in some sort of mental hospital for the rest of my life?_ the poor farm boy worried.

He still had no idea why he did it, but he leaned even closer to the mirror, and even rested his hands on the old sink. Chills ran through Oscar's body as he looked at where the images of the man had been mere moments ago.

 _"H-hello?"_ he asked the mirror. He wasn't exactly sure whether he wanted to or would get a response, but he asked nonetheless.

When nothing happened at first, he waited a few moments before letting out a relieved sigh. Maybe he was just tired and needed to go back to sleep. Though if he had indeed severely injured his brain yesterday, it was probably best to tell his mom. If he did that, though, he probably would be sent to a regular hospital or a mental hospital for the rest of his life. Oscar could imagine his small mother's stressing over him trying to figure out where he had bumped his head. Or maybe he could just ignore seeing this weird man from his dream and move on with his life. He thought that was probably the best, after Oscar sighed, a voice responded, nearly giving him, a heart attack.

"Hello..." the voice started.

He screamed and started to walk backwards in panic and confusion. He definitely did not expect someone to respond. In fact, he wasn't even sure what he did expect. He was so startled that instead of moving back, the boy tripped and started falling backward.

"...I'm Professor Ozpin." the voice continued as Oscar crashed to the ground, landing in a pile of hay unable to catch his breath.

From somewhere in the distance, Mrs. Pine must have heard the crash or Oscar's scream because she called out worriedly,"Oscar, you be careful with those tools!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! UnitedPikachu here! Thanks for reading again! I promised that I'd be back, didn't I? I'm sorry that it took so long to get this out. I planned to post this around 3, but I ended up having to do Christmas and birthday things with my family. I still needed to fix some things, so I had to wait until I got back. In fact I can't really edit it currently without it being a day late for more family stuff, so there are things I will have to fix in the morning. That's okay. I'm having so much fun with this! It really starts getting interesting next week. Next week will mark the first time that Ozpin takes over for Oscar. Let's just say that will be more than just thoughts. It's going to be way more interesting and creative than that. I'm not the type to either brag or act confident, but here in the internet, anyone can be anything! Haha.
> 
> I also have a question. I want to put quotes from RWBY that relate to the chapter in the beginning of each chapter, as you can probably already tell. Would you rather I tell you who and when the quote is from, or shall I just keep it a secret? If you care to do so, please answer by either pming me or including it in your review of this chapter. I'll update these two chapters that are already out if you guys want to change them. It's up to you. I also would like to know which chapter you liked better so far. Thank you so much!
> 
> HazelEyesIsOut1234 sent this to me last week,"I see the potential! I'd like to see where this goes, but one note of housekeeping- doesn't Oscar live with his aunt? Or will that be addressed later?"
> 
> So I thought I'd like to address that now. First of all, thank you so much for reading my story! It makes me so happy that you liked what you read and want to see more! And thank you for telling me that Oscar lives with his aunt. I genuinely did not know about that, so I'm glad you brought that up. However, I will not go back and change the prologue. I know you didn't suggest I do that or anything, but still. The reason I wrote the prologue in the first place is to give Oscar something he truly cares about. I really think that we truly need something to take away from Oscar so that he will feel more strongly about things when things start happening. I won't spoil anything, but I have plans for things along those lines. If Oscar simply lives with his aunt, Oscar can't feel as strongly as if he was living with his mother. So, I'm going to stick with my choice, and I believe that it will help the story in the future. I guess that would mean that this is technically an AU, but what the heck. Again, thank you so much for reading and reviewing. I hope I can live up to your expectations and even surpass them, Hazel!


	3. Chapter 2: Denial

_"I've decided you're not real, so you might as well just give up."_

* * *

I lay down on the floor of the barn, panting and confused. I definitely did not expect a voice to answer back. After all, nobody had visited the farm in a while and my mom never told me that someone was coming. She always did that whenever someone visited, so it didn't make sense for a professor of all people to be roaming around the farm, much less in my little barn. Whoever this Professor Ozpin was, I had no idea. The only Professor Ozpin that I had ever even heard of was the headmaster of Beacon Academy, and there was no way that he would show up at some random little farm. He had a school to run and places to be. Unless Professor Ozpin was the man I had seen in his vivid dream the night before. Even that didn't make sense. How could someone from a dream that he had never seen before show up in real life? My dream by itself was weird, but hearing voices and seeing things is an  _entirely_  different level of weird. Really, it's more insane and crazy than weird in it's own right.

Even after I had caught my breath, I just lay there on the hay littered floor. I was glad that animals hadn't been in the farm to mess up the hay in years, at the very least. Still, everything from panic to confusion went through my head. Plus, falling and hitting my head on hard wood didn't help much. If the reason I was seeing things and hearing voices really was because I hit my head the day before, then I probably was going to be hearing and seeing a lot more soon. At least, that's what I thought anyway.

 _Where did that voice even come from?_  I asked myself,  _Why did he sound like he was..._

I couldn't finish his thought and ended up trailing off instead. I couldn't really begin to describe what Ozpin's voice sounded like. It was deeper than my own, and it wasn't malicious sounding. However, it still managed to creep me out a whole lot. It sounded as if it was coming from everywhere, and yet no where at the same time, I had never been the bravest teenage boy in the world anyway. I've always been a very timid person. Maybe that's one of the reasons I've never wanted to be a hero or a huntsman. Still, I always was scared pretty easily. That would explain why I was lying on the ground with hay messing up his hair and scared of someone introducing themselves. At least there was an explanation. I couldn't figure out exactly what it was most that had scared me the most. Maybe it was the fact that I had no idea where the voice was coming from, or maybe it was the fact that I couldn't understand was happening at all.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath for a few seconds. Before I could do anything, I needed to calm myself down. Since my mother had responded to the noise, I figured she was worried about me again. Food would probably help me feel better, anyway. So, I opened my eyes and got up from the floor. I looked around for Professor Ozpin, but I didn't find anyone, even when I looked outside of the barn. Shaking my head in an attempt to focus my mind again, I took off my orange gloves and returned to the sink. While I washed my hands, I didn't even dare to glance at the mirror for a second. All I could do was look down at his hands and the water in the sink until I finished washing my hands and turned the old faucets off.

_Whoever Professor Ozpin is, he can wait until after breakfast. If he exists at all, that is._

So I quickly made my way to the old farm house. I didn't want to think about whatever had just happened, so I focused on breakfast on the way there. I decided that when I got there, I would give his mom an extra big hug. That day's breakfast was special since I was relying on it and my beloved mother to help me forget about everything that I had seen that morning. After giving her a hug, I was going to drink his milk. Then I was going to eat my breakfast. Then I wasn't even going to remember my nightmare, or Ozpin, since I would be learning new things during his homeschooling. Because I focused on planning everything about my morning, I didn't have time to think about all the things that scared me.

As I stepped up the few stairs to the patio of the farmhouse, I could smell the wonderfully familiar aroma of my breakfast. The delicious smell of eggs, ham, and fresh baked muffins filled the air, and I could smell it even though I hadn't even walked in the door yet. I hurried inside and hugged my mom, just like I had planned. Mrs. Pine was a little startled by how quickly I had hugged her, but she returned the embrace lovingly. Her soft, wavy, dark chocolate brown hair was pulled back in a tight braid, and a smile grew on her freckled face as she hugged me.

"Hey, sweetie! Did you sleep well last night?" Mrs. Pine asked gently. When I didn't answer at first and instead opted to respond with a small shrug and a nervous smile, Mrs. Pine laughed. "Nightmare?"

I nodded. That woman could read me like a book. As I walked over to the table where his breakfast plate was sitting, I continued to talk with my mom,"Yeah. At least I have your amazing food to cheer me up!"

It was true that the food was amazing. My mom was a pretty good cook. Although, she was an even better baker than she was a cook. She was always the kind of person who would follow each and every recipe to a tea. That tends to come in handy with baking more than cooking, anyway. If you don't follow the directions exactly in baking, everything can go horribly wrong. Sometimes in cooking, messing up the recipe makes the recipe even better than it ever was before. However, Mrs. Pine never really wanted to try finding that out the hard way.

"My food isn't  _that_  amazing, sweetheart. Do you want to talk about it?" Mom smiled and laughed a little at my compliment. I could see that it made her feel better and warmed her heart.

I looked down at my plate and wondered if I should tell her what had happened that morning. I had managed to keep it away from my mind for a little bit, but then all of his worries and fears came back to me. Images of the murderer, the girl with the arrow in her chest, Pyrrha, Juane, and the man danced around my vision until I opted to just shut my eyes tightly. Professor Ozpin's words rang through my head, and I hated it. She clearly deserved to know about it since she was the my own mother, but at the same time she might think I was crazy. That would be the last thing that I would have wanted. If I told other people and they thought I was crazy, it wouldn't matter as much. If my own mother rejected me and sent me off to some mental asylum far, far away, I would never be able to handle that. Since my father was usually working, my mother was the closest person too me. Losing her because she thought I was mentally insane or schizophrenic was a legitimate fear. I wasn't exactly sure how sane I was myself at that point. How could I expect Mom to think anything different?

I hadn't even touched any of his food. I simply looked at it, thinking about all this. How would I even begin to describe what was going on to my mother? Nervous, my stomach started to hurt, and I began shaking a little. My nightmare and memories from what had transpired that morning wouldn't get out of my head. I started to feel sick. What if his mom even thought that he wasn't even worth sending to a mental institution for help and simply kicked him out of the house right then and there? I wasn't sure what was happening anymore. If I really was going insane, maybe I  _deserved it._  After all, crazy people belonged in mental institutions or mental hospitals, not on a wonderful farm with the most amazing mom in the entire world.

I could feel my throat close up as I could feel hot tears rolling down his cheeks. I didn't want to cry, but I couldn't stop my tears either. At this time, I had been sitting at the table and had my fork in my hand, but I hadn't even touched any of my food. It was probably getting cold by now, but I didn't care at all. I was too upset to even think about my food anymore. I couldn't get the fact that my own mother might never want to be near me again if I told her what I had seen and heard. Maybe I was overreacting, but even just the  _thought_  hurt me so badly.

It didn't take long for Mom to realize that I was crying and not eating my food. The second she did, she immediately ran to comfort me. She pulled me into another hug and ruffled my black, messy hair while gently rubbing my back with her other hand. "Oscar, what's wrong?" she asked seriously worried, "Tell me what's the matter?"

I couldn't respond. All I could do was sniffle and continue crying since my throat was closing up due to my crying. I was so scared. Scared because I thought I might be crazy, but mostly scared that Mom might come to the same conclusion. I tried to say something, but it came out messed up and unintelligible. I opened my eyes and looked at my mother, who was still hugging me and rubbing my back.

"P-promise you won't.. _.h-hate me?"_ I whimpered quietly.

* * *

At her son's words, Mrs. Pine's hazel eyes grew wide in surprise. There was nothing in the entire world that could cause her to hate him. There was nothing he could do in a million years that could possibly stop her immense love for her one and only son. He was  _her_  Oscar. Her stomach dropped and her hands were shaking as she squeezed the boy even tighter in her arms. There was nothing that could make the mother stop loving her son, but apparently there was something that might make him think there was. That scared her even more. Her blood ran cold when she thought that maybe, just maybe, she had done something to make him think that. If it was her fault that her son was sitting at the dining room table crying his little heart out because he was afraid of his mother hating him, she wouldn't be able to live it down in a million years.

She kissed the top of his head, and her voice cracked a little since it was getting hard for her to refrain from crying herself when she spoke, _"I could never stop loving you."_

* * *

This should have helped me feel better, but it honestly didn't help very much. After all, it was because I loved my mother so much that I was so scared. I never wanted to leave her, and I certainly never wanted her to think I was crazy. At that point, I felt like I had to tell the truth. In my mind, there were no other options anymore. Not after I had worried her by starting to cry. I had to tell her the truth, even if I wasn't entirely sure what the truth was. I had to tell her what I knew. She deserved to know. She loved me so much, and not telling her what was happening just wasn't the right thing to do.

So, I took a deep breath and started to tell her what was going on,"I-I heard voices and saw an old man in the mirror above the sink today. I-I'm not crazy, am I?"

I winced and closed my eyes tightly again, not wanting to see the look on my mother's face at those words. She didn't say anything, she just squeezed me tighter and kept patting my back with her right hand. With her left, she gently ran her fingers through my black, messy hair. I had been too preoccupied to even get all of the hay that had gotten into my hair earlier out. She just ruffled it out and let the little bits of hay float to the ground as she struggled to help me calm down. I guess she didn't really know what to say, so she simply stayed silent so that he could keep going.

I had really hoped she would say something, anything. In my mind, silence only made things worse. Instead of helping at all, silence just made me even more scared and nervous. The feeling was horrible and agonizing, and I hated it. Maybe her acknowledging his insanity might have been less stressful. That's just how much I hated the silence.

I quickly tried to fill the horrible void as I buried my head in his mother's shoulder between tears,"I-I'm scared, Mom."

Instead of doing schoolwork or chores, I spent the next few hours telling my mother what I had seen and heard. After the horrible silence, I just couldn't stop talking. I poured my heart out to my mother, and she listened to every word with nothing but love for me. She didn't laugh. She didn't reject me like I had feared, either. She didn't brand me as a schizophrenic, and she didn't call me crazy. She didn't question me. She didn't even worry about the fact that I hit my head on hard wood and might have hurt it. She didn't even question the authenticity of my words. She listened to my story and believed me.

When I was done telling my story, Mom  _smiled_. I couldn't understand why of all things she could have done in this situation, she chose to  _smile._  Her son was crying. There was no reason to smile at all. I was worried that she was going to never want to talk to me again, or maybe even worse. That was definitely not a reason to smile at all.

"It sounds to me like you're finally unlocking your semblance, Sweetheart."

I looked up at her in surprise, but I didn't want to believe her. It was too good to be true. She might have just said that to make me feel better, and every crazy person probably claims the same thing. I had never even heard of someone having a semblance like that. I decided he was better off letting her believe that and pretending that Professor Ozpin, whoever he was, didn't exist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thank you so much for your understanding about this week's chapter. I was probably going to have to split it up anyway, but still. Since this is coming out, I'm going to delete the note I left a few days ago and add it onto this week's notes. Again, I just don't have the time or energy to have done the whole chapter as originally intended. That whole scene is just way too much. Next week, I have half days because of exams. Then I'm on Christmas vacation! So I will definitely be able to get it done! I'm looking forward to it, and I hope you are too.
> 
> Dear Readers,
> 
> Hi! I am so sorry that this is not Chapter 2. There is something I feel the need to address. I feel like it's only fair since I promised something to you guys. I don't want to leave you in the dark, feeling like I've let you down. I promise that Chapter 2 will be out on schedule on Saturday, still. However, a lot has happened so I can't exactly do what I wanted to. I wanted to do the whole scene where Ozpin tries to convince Oscar that he's not going insane and to save the world. It's a big scene, especially with what I planned to add in as well. It's very important for the future of the entire story. Things will reference back to that chapter in the far future, so it's very important that it is perfect for you guys.
> 
> That said, I have had a really awful week. I have to prepare because exams are next week, my voice is somehow so bad I can't speak without being misunderstood and hurting my throat even more, I've been swamped with homework, and today a threat was made on my school. Needless to say, I haven't had time to be working on one of the most crucial chapters. To make up for that, however, I will be putting part of the original plan for Chapter 2 in the impromptu version. I was going to have a scene or a few of Oscar throughout the rest of the day denying Oz's existence. It will be cute, but it won't be as big as what the original chapter was intended to be. Thank you so much for your understanding. I hope that I don't disappoint you too much, but then again why would you care about some mediocre addition to the cannon story that barely started?
> 
> Another thing I want to address is the fact that my school was threatened with a shooting or a bombing or something today. Tomorrow is the anniversary of Sandy Hook. A threatening message which referenced Sandy Hook was written in one of our bathroom stalls, but we have no idea who reported it at all. I go to a small school with only about three hundred fifty kids, so whoever it was must have had a vendetta towards our school. Threats usually come from the inside rather than the outside. Plus, if someone wanted to hurt a lot of people, they would go to a bigger school. We believe we are fine, and we will still have school tomorrow. If you or a loved one have ever been involved with either threats of violence or actual terrors, my heart goes out to you. Your pain is unimaginable, and I can't even begin to comprehend it. You should never have had to, and I am so, so, so very sorry. There is so much more to this world than violence, and only love will help us see that.


	4. Chapter 3: Breakfast and Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oscar is convinced that he is going crazy.

_"Don't think. Obey."_

* * *

I didn't really want to finish my breakfast after that escapade. Even Mom's amazing food couldn't really entice me to eat, since I had lost pretty much all of my appetite at that point. I don't usually cry very easily, so the fact that I was crying in front of Mom made me feel almost worse. It's not like I had my arm sliced off using one of the machines, or anything. Still, I let my emotions get to me. There's no real reason I should have been pushed to tears at all. It wasn't like I had been through that much to justify crying like that. It simply wasn't something I was proud. It didn't even take me that long to start crying; maybe I wasn't as strong as I thought I was. Not that I ever thought I really was that strong to begin with. Physically and mentally, I've never been the strongest of people. Maybe it's because I've just lived in that tiny little farm my entire life. I was always a scaredy cat and a fairly vulnerable person, but I was never really a crier, at least not before that point.

My mother was so wonderful to me when I tried to explain to her why I was upset, but all her kindness kind of hurt me after a while. She wanted to help me feel better.  _She was worried about me._  I was making her feel badly, too. I think I hated that most. It hurts when I'm upset, but it hurts way more to see someone I care about upset because of my actions. She's such an amazing person, and I shouldn't have worried her by crying. When I had first started to open up to her, it helped me a lot just to talk through everything that was going on. After she didn't say anything for a while, unease replaced my temporary relief. Silence is more terrifying than any amount of shouting could ever be, in my humble opinion. You never know what will come from silence. In my mind, I promised myself that I wouldn't cry again, especially not with the person I care about most in the entire world around.

I smiled a sheepish and shy smile even though I was still upset. Thankfully, I felt a bit better for real after Mom had tried to convince me that maybe it was my semblance. I'm not entirely sure why I did, exactly. It didn't quite make sense for that to be connected to my semblance. No one has ever had a semblance like that, and anyone who lost their mind could still claim that even if there were. She was clearly just trying to help me feel better, but I didn't really want to hurt her even more by continuing to be upset. If I had to stop opening up and hide my feelings for her sake, I would do it. Her happiness was worth protecting, and if I just pretended it didn't happen then maybe I could eventually convince myself that it really didn't happen at all.

I grabbed my fork and knife again and cut up a piece of the ham. When I took a bite of the ham and chewed it slowly, it had already gotten pretty cold, and I still wasn't feeling hungry anymore. I felt a bit guilty though. Mom always had to get up pretty early to make breakfast for me because I got up before dawn to see the sunrise. She worked so hard everyday for me. On top of how I was already feeling, it made me a little sad that I had let all the delicious food Mom had made for me with love. I looked down at the plate. The only thing that wasn't cold probably was the milk.

I glanced up at Mom, who had stopped hugging me and sat at the other side of the table instead. Her sad, worried expression made me feel even guiltier for worrying her and for letting her wonderful food get cold, and it made me want to help her like it always did. I knew I had to do something to help her feel better. Even though it was cold, I skewered the rest of the piece of ham and stuffed it into my mouth without even cutting it first. Despite my loss of appetite and the fact that the food wasn't very good anymore, I wanted to finish it for Mom.

It didn't take long for her to realize what I wanted to do, and she moved the plate to her side of the table, laughing a little. I must have had a pretty guilty look on my face. Either that, or she was better at reading me than I even knew. "Easy there, tiger. You'll get sick if you eat too fast, you know. Why don't you take some time to calm down? I can always warm your plate up, no problem," she said smiling.

I smiled back when I realized that she wasn't that upset anymore. Maybe she was trying to hide her emotions just like I was trying, and clearly failing to do. I wasn't quite sure, but I knew she loved me. And she clearly wasn't going to kick me out of the house or send me to an asylum if she was telling me to go to my room and calm down. Plus, I'm glad that she took my food away from me. I still wasn't ready to eat. She probably was right, and I just needed to take some time to calm down to feel better. I had just gone through so many emotions in a matter of minutes, and I finally realized that it had taken a pretty big tole on me. I had only just woken up from my nightmare not even an hour and a half ago, and I was already tired. Mentally, I was confused and upset. I promised myself that I wouldn't let my emotions get the best of me again that day, and I wasn't going to let the morning's events hold me down.

Before she could do anything else, I got up and walked over to her side of the table. I smiled bitter-sweetly and gave her a hug as I messed up her chocolate brown hair as much as I could. It wasn't much, since she had put her hair up in a tight braid that day, but I sure tried...as gently as I possibly could. With a mix of happiness and sadness, I recalled the tickle attack from the morning before. Just like when she was worried about my head then, she was worried about my head at that moment too. Only, this time it was for an entirely different reason. Just thinking about the morning before made me feel a bit better, so I repeated her own words back to her.

"I was worried about you," I said, and I truly meant it.

Mom smiled when she recognized the words and repeated my answer,"I know."

"I love you."

"I know."

Then I kissed her cheek and made my way back to my room to calm down. I spent the rest of the day reading stories from my small collection of books. Growing up on a farm didn't exactly give me access to cutting edge technology, so books became a big part of my childhood. With books I was able to escape to far off places and learn about people who lived differently than I did, had different viewpoints than I did, or even were faunus - an entirely different species of people. I loved my boring, but orderly lifestyle. Still, part of it was listening to tales of other people's adventures. The best part about books was that I could learn about other peoples' lives without having to leave my warm, comfortable bed. That, and reading reminded me of when Dad would read bedtime stories to me before bedtime. If I had a few books, I could meet characters and have friends, even if it was all pretend or made up. Is that more than a little bit sad? Probably. Is it more than a little childish?  _Probably._  Regardless, reading has always made me happy, and I've always cherished it.

I've never really liked nonfiction books. I've always preferred fictional stories. However, my favorite was always and will always be fairy tales. Contrary to popular belief, a true fairy tale isn't all sunshine and rainbows. Those are what people think of when they remember them, not what actual fairy tales are. People think that fairy tales are all cute and always end happily, but that's not true at all. In reality, fairy tales are dark and scary to serve as a cautionary tale for the audience. Yet, they always get a happy ending. In my opinion, fairy tales reflect the most important parts of real life more than some of the history books I've read. In history books, the author tries to state the facts with as much of an unbiased opinion as possible, and as a result they don't seem to truly care about anything. Even when they do care about it, they either go into too much detail about things that don't matter that much like politics or the specific culture of a group of people, or they don't go into detail at all and treat people like numbers that we'll eventually forget. They don't tell us about the lives or problems of specific people like fictional stories do. In fairy tales however, all of the characters aren't really characters at all. They don't have to be. They're only there so you can put yourself in their shoes and learn something important like not to trust strangers or how to be a better person. The characters start off without knowledge of the lesson, then their innocence or naivety allows them to make a mistake, they are punished because of it, and in the end they grow, become a better person, and have a better life because of it. Sure they went through hardships, but they reached their happy endings because they learned from their mistakes. Most of the people in the history books seem to never really learn from their mistakes at all. Even when they do, someone else comes and does the same exact thing.

I still hadn't regained my appetite since I had lost it by the time lunch rolled around, though I was feeling a whole lot better emotionally. My head was clearer since I was focused on finding out what happened next in the story, rather than being lost in my thoughts about that morning. I wasn't as scared anymore, and I had been feeling pretty happy. Getting out of doing school work was pretty nice, even if the reason for it was essentially a panic attack. I guess Mom didn't really want to bother me while I was in my room, since she never came to force me to eat. I probably would have heard her if she did, even if I was pretty concentrated on my book. By the time she finally did, I had to turn on my little lamp a few hours before and watched the sunset out of my window.

"Oscar! Supper's almost ready!" Mom called from downstairs, or more accurately  _down-ladder,_ as I continued to read my book.

"What are we having?" I joked, knowing full well that it probably was just my reheated breakfast. Since I had never gone down to get it, she probably just made something for herself and put my breakfast in the oven at the same time. Even though she couldn't see it, I smiled down at the book I was reading happily. We both were really worried about each other, and we could both use some good old fashion joking around.

I could almost hear my mother roll her eyes and smile despite herself, if that were possible. She obviously knew as well as I did that I still hadn't eaten my breakfast, and she probably knew I was joking around too. In fact, I know she did because she quickly shot back,"Doesn't matter.  _You're eating it!_ "

At that, I pouted a little as I tried to think of something funny to say for a few seconds. When I didn't come up with anything that was exactly comedy gold, I flipped the page of my book and settled with,"I never agreed to these terms!"

Unluckily for me, Mom came up with a pretty good follow up fairly quickly.

"It's part of the living under my roof contract," she specified before adding,"Check the fine print and come wash up."

So, I closed my book and laid it on the bed. I was just about to start a new chapter, so the timing worked out pretty well. I didn't have to get a bookmark, since I could just remember the chapter number. I took a deep breath. I had a lot of time to calm down, and it really helped. I just hoped that when I got down for dinner, I would be able to apologize to Mom for making her worry about me. Of course, if she was still worried I wasn't going to bring it up quite yet. However she felt, I was going to at least go down and eat the rest of my food.

By the time I was off of the bed, something happened that made me stop in my tracks and practically knocked the breath out of me for a few seconds. I heard Professor Ozpin's voice again.

" _We have to leave."_

After hearing and seeing him once, I had thought I was going crazy. I probably still was going insane, but at least earlier I had managed to get the idea out of my head for a little while. Even that had taken almost an entire day to deal with. Hearing him again made all of that progress effectively worthless. I could have lived my entire life without hearing him another time, and I desperately wanted to do that. Only crazy people hear voices in their head and see things that aren't really there. Still, I promised myself that I wouldn't let this take control of me. How could something take over my thoughts and scare me so much if it wasn't truly real?

I tried my best to shove it off and ignore the voice I heard for a second time. It didn't exist. I was going crazy, but that didn't matter. What did matter was that Mom was waiting for me downstairs, and I had already let her down before. I wasn't going to let her food get cold a second time. That just wasn't an option anymore. If I did that, she could take it the wrong way and think I didn't want to eat at all. It was pretty late, and the only thing I had eaten was that cold slice of ham from before. After what happened earlier, betraying my promises to myself didn't seem right. It was basically the same thing as giving up. So, I took a deep breath and kept walking toward the door.

Whoever Professor Ozpin was, he wouldn't give in either. He just kept calling my name. Well, he would have if he were actually real, but he wasn't of course. He was just a figment of my imagination. As any normal human being would, I didn't want to accept that any of that was real. It simply couldn't be. It went against logic and everything I had known for all my life. All my life I thought I was a simple, normal farm boy. Simple, normal farm boys to my knowledge never heard voices in their heads from a man who never even existed. There was no way that I was going to accept that in this or any world.  _The voice I was hearing simply didn't exist. At that moment, I knew I was going insane._

It's a horrible feeling to know that you clearly aren't thinking in a mentally sound way at all. It's not a very easy thing to digest, and simply  _thinking_ about it was so much to handle that it made me feel sick. My stomach started hurting, and my vision started to spin a little. My throat started closing up, but I wasn't going to let myself cry again. Though, I was on the verge of starting to, I shoved it off and focused on getting to the door. Even my heart was beating almost as quickly as my racing thoughts. I wanted to question everything I had ever thought of before, but I didn't have time for that.  _I had to go downstairs for dinner. I couldn't keep my own mother waiting._

Each step felt as if I was trudging through lots of mud or as if I was carrying something very heavy, but I kept walking. When I got to the door, I reached out for the doorknob with a shaky hand, but I couldn't bring myself to turn the handle just yet. I'm not entirely sure why. Even if it was simply to clear my mind, I guess I needed to respond to the voice somehow. I was going to have to face the music someday, even if it wasn't just right then. If I did it sooner, it might go away though. So, I took a deep breath and tried my best to calm down.

"I've decided you're not real," I tried to reason with myself or Professor Ozpin,"So you might as well just give up."

I'm not entirely sure whether I was trying to convince myself or the Professor that the voice wasn't real. It seems kind of stupid to acknowledge something by proclaiming that it wasn't real, but at the time I was so confused and scared. Then the same three words started running through my mind, over and over and over again.

_..It's not real...It's not real...It's not real..._

Those words kept getting louder, and louder in my head. They wouldn't stop as I started panicking even more. By the time that stupid voice in my head returned, my own thoughts were practically drowning his words out.

" _I understand how you're feeling._ I went through the same panic and confusion."

I could barely even hear what he had said, but I heard enough to be able to understand the words. It was as if the voice was trying to  _comfort_  me of all things. I should have felt angry at it's words. How could  _he_ , a nonexistent voice in my schizophrenic, insane head understand at all how I was feeling? Whoever or whatever it was, there was no way that he could even begin to understand how I was feeling. I couldn't even begin to understand my own thoughts or feelings at all. How could he do that if even I couldn't understand? It had no right to claim that he knew at all what my pain was, much less try to console me after all my pain was because of the voice. I couldn't bring myself to be angry, however. Instead, I just wanted it to stop.

I turned and realized that I had left books lying around the floor. Wanting to keep my room clean, I walked over and started to put the books back. I didn't want to deal with voices in my head that didn't exist. Instead, I tried to ignore it. The same three words kept running through my head. Maybe it was a defense mechanism or a way to cope with what was happening, I wasn't really sure. All I knew was that it wouldn't stop. I kept hearing my own words in my head, over and over and over again. As I put the books away, I actually said those words out loud. I guess maybe I thought if I said it enough, the situation I was in really wouldn't be.

_"It's not real...It's not real...It's not real..."_

I got up from the floor and gazed at my reflection in the mirror. Nothing about this made any sense at all, and I just wanted the voice to stop talking to me. Hearing voices in my head and seeing things isn't normal. It was crazy.  _I was crazy._  There really was no other explanation at all, other than the fact it could have to do with my semblance. But that was a stupid idea in of itself.

While I was trying to ignore the horrible voice in my head, the voice coming back didn't really help matters at all. Ozpin just kept talking to me, and I hated it. "I can assure you. You are perfectly sane."

Yeah right. Any sane person wouldn't even be in this situation in the first place. None of this was something that any sane person would experience. It was stupid to think that it was. No real normal person would be hearing people who aren't there. There was simply no way that I was sane. Something this weird and crazy didn't happen to normal, sane people. At this point, I could only repeat that in my head in an attempt to calm myself down. Needless to say, it didn't work at all. What was going on simply was insane.

I continued to look at my reflection in the mirror. The boy who stared back at me seemed just like any normal kid probably should have. As much as I wish I did, I didn't have any brothers or sisters at all. Since no one my age really came to visit the farm ever, I basically grew up with only my books, the few people around the farm including my parents, and my imagination. From what I saw in my books, I looked like a pretty normal farmhand. Maybe it was having so few people to talk to that had finally gotten to me. Maybe I had gone crazy in some sort of effort to talk to someone. That could have been it. A few months ago, I read a book about mental disorders since I had nothing else to read at that time. In that book, there was a chapter on multiple personality disorder. The book said that it was extremely rare and ninety percent of patients were abused as children, but it was still possible I guess. Either growing up without any friends pushed me to make my own friend, I was one of the extremely rare ten percent of people who weren't abused, or I didn't have multiple personality disorder at all. Anyway you slice it, I was still crazy despite what the voice in my mind said.

"I'm talking to a voice in my head." I whispered to the boy in the window.

I could see how scared I really was in my eyes. Even if I looked fine everywhere else, my eyes would probably give me away every time I tried to hide something. Whether it was with good intentions or bad, my hazel eyes were probably the reason my mom could figure out I was hiding something. Well, that and the fact that she is my mother after all. When I got downstairs, she would pick up on the fact that I wasn't doing very good. Besides my eyes, I was also shaking a bit. It wasn't very hard to tell that I was upset in the very least. There probably wasn't even a way to hide it from Mom. Mom's are good at things like that. In fact, it probably was a better idea to try and calm down again before going down the ladder to her. It was too bad that was next to impossible at that point.

"I didn't say you were normal," Ozpin retorted,"I said you were sane."

Even if it was true that I was sane, everything was still so confusing. That didn't really make any sense. Then again, nothing about what was happening made sense at all. I decided that maybe I should just go down to dinner again. Mom was waiting for me, after all. I had already made her worried, and making her wait for me more probably only made her worry even more. I didn't want to do that to her. She had already tried to make me feel better once, and she shouldn't have to do it again. Mom deserved better than that. She was always so wonderful like she had been that morning. Everyday, Mom did her best to give me a happy life, despite not being around anyone close to my age. Heck, most of what she did was all for me. She wanted me to have a better future than the already wonderful present. My mother was an amazing person, and she didn't deserve to ever feel scared or worried, much less hurt.  _She didn't deserve to have a son that was clearly going mad._

While thinking about my mom, I found the courage to once again walk toward the door. On my way there, however, Professor Ozpin's voice broke through my thoughts,"There's quite..."

While he kept talking, anger finally started to boil up inside of me. Up until then, I had tried to do my very best to keep from being angry. I was scared and confused, but I hadn't fully gotten angry yet. I had every reason too, though. After all, the voice was the cause of all the pain and fear I was feeling. Hearing Professor Ozpin's voice for the first time had scared me so badly that I had actually started crying, which I rarely ever did. Maybe I just never had a real reason to cry before that day. I was convinced that my own mother was going to send me away to some mental institution for " _help_." I was afraid that she wouldn't want to be around me anymore, or even worse, maybe she would hate me. I was so afraid of myself, knowing that I was probably not right in the head at all. That's such a horrible thing to think about, and yet there I was, thinking about it. In fact, I had been thinking about it for so long that it just amplified my feelings of terror and confusion, as well as the anger that was starting to erupt.

He or the voice, or whatever it was continued,"...a significant differen-"

Angrily, I cut Ozpin's words off with a shout that quieted the voice almost instantly, _"Shut up!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again! Sorry for the wait. This week was a pretty big mess. My only computer stopped charging for a while, so I couldn't work on anything, even if I wanted to. I promise that if I miss another week's chapter ever again, you can be really, really mad at me or something. There isn't a whole lot you can do other than that besides pming me and expressing your anger or whatever. If something ever happens that prevents me from uploading the chapter on time, then I will let you know what's going on with a note at least. I don't want to keep you guys in that dark about what's going on, and it's not fair to do that, anyway.
> 
> I hope that the shift from third person to first person can give us more insight to what Oscar is thinking, but I might have to shift it back if it doesn't accomplish that. I have the original chapters saved just in case. If it doesn't work out, then it doesn't work out. Just let me know if you prefer the original third person to the new first person.
> 
> I've been thinking so far ahead that it's getting hard to put that aside and focus on where I'm at in the story currently. Volume 6 is doing a really good job at fixing some of RWBY's problems and striving to be better. It's just really inspiring. Plus Ruby is getting character development! Woot! Woot! So this chapter I've been getting a lot of writer's block. Not to mention I've been struggling to get away from my own pack of Apathy if you know what I mean. Maybe it's the fact that I'm thinking about the wording of this story in first person now. It's kinda depressing, but I'm good. I promise. I've never really been truly depressed and I certainly won't let the reason I actually become depressed be an internet story I'm writing. It could also be that I'm just tired from dealing with exams, but who cares.
> 
> On top of that, I'm trying to obviously help Oscar's character development. I'm not sure if it's working or coming across at all, but his personality will become more apparent around other people. Since he basically has been used as a tool by the plot to connect to Ozpin, he kinda feels like a blank slate. In the show, he really hasn't held a real conversation with anyone other than Ruby. I'm also going to assume he has lived at the farm his entire life without ever leaving. I think it's safe to say that he's a shy, socially awkward, introverted kid, but he also wants to help people. Just saying that makes him sound like a discount Izuku Midoriya though, no offense to our favorite farm boy. So, this chapter I thought I would bring up the fact that he would rather hide his feelings than express them and make the people around him feel worried. He wants to help everyone around him, including with little things that might honestly just be all in his head. If it didn't really come across that way this chapter, then that will be explored more soon. Hopefully, as this story goes on, we will get to see more and more of Oscar's personality as he gets pushed more and more out of his comfort zone.
> 
> Also, I am so excited to play with the fact that Oscar is currently MIA. It's gonna be fun.
> 
> Dear Readers,
> 
> Hello again! Sorry again, but I have another urgent announcement regarding this story. GUESS WHO'S ONLY COMPUTER STOPPED CHARGING. I am SO SO SO sorry for letting you guys down. I know I promised that the new chapter would be ready to go last Sunday, but I couldn't use my computer since it broke Friday night. I know I messed up, so I will probably add another scene to this chapter or something. I left you guys without a chapter that I already had delayed, which isn't fair at all. Especially right before Christmas. It's hard to come to terms with the fact that I broke my promise to upload every week only on the third chapter in. I really hope that this doesn't happen again.
> 
> Maybe it was for the better, though. Since I got a really wonderful break, I hope everything will be even better than it would have been otherwise. I had time to come up with new ideas, and it makes me happy. Christmas in general makes me happy.
> 
> I will upload the new chapter next Saturday. No excuses. If you think the change to first person sacrifices some of the quality of Os's Scars, please let me know. I can change it back if it doesn't end up helping.
> 
> I love you guys! Thank you so much for your patience, and Happy New Year!
> 
> Love,
> 
> UnitedPikachu


	5. I suck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's official. I suck. I am so sorry, and I have no excuse.

**It's official. I suck. I am so sorry, and I have no excuse.**

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thank you so much for reading this! This is the second time I'm doing this, but it's still my first fanfiction. The first time I uploaded the first draft of this very late at night without proofreading or realizing most of it was wrong anyway. And when I drew the cover photo, it was aligned normally and everything, but I have absolutely no idea how to fix it. If anyone knows and will tell me, that would be great. Hopefully you liked the Prologue and want to see more of this story. I really have a ton of amazing ideas for where this will go, and I can't wait until I will be able to tell you about it! I especially love how I've imagined the mechanics of Oscar and Ozpin's situation. I also eventually have plans to go to where the show currently is at. EVENTUALLY. I'm not a hundred percent sure if I am going to involve Oscar or anyone else in ships quite yet, but I might. I can get to that when it comes up. I'm going to post once a week, and I promise that if I don't, you can...be mad at me? I'm not sure. Thanks again for reading my story! You're amazing! Speaking of...ahhhh! Oscar is such a sweetheart and must be protected! Still, we get more of just Oscar being Oscar in the actual first chapter of the story. Since this is going to be following and adding to the cannon for the most part, we are starting with Volume 4 Chapter 1 and when Oscar first hears Ozpin. See you next week! - UnitedPikachu


End file.
